The Tunnel Of Love (rewrite)
by 80snerd
Summary: Gilbert Jenkins and Erin Sands. Two halves of a lost soul. One dead, one alive. When Erin becomes a missing puzzle piece in solving his Unfinished Business, did Gilbert get more than he bargained for? And when Erin is thrown into a world of vampires, werewolves and ghosts, can she survive?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hi everyone! Now, if you've been following me on here, you may have seen that I'd started another Being Human fanfic with the same title. This is the new, updated version of that. I've been sitting on this story for over a year now, and I've even written future chapters of it that I'm quite proud of that, currently, are hidden away in my notebook. I plan to share them one day. However, I didn't like the direction the story was going in initally, so I've decided to start again. Whether I keep the original version, I'm not sure, but this will be the one that I continue on with. I hope you enjoy.**

 _1._

 _Darkness._

 _A sea of nothingness engulfed Erin and strangled her like one giant python, curling itself around her fragile neck until she was, gasping, fighting for breath. As all the weight shifted to that area, she felt the rest of her body fall limp. She felt as though she was being lifted into the air by the forceful grip around her. It pulled her up, higher, and higher, and higher..._

 _And then smashed into the ground as though she was worthless._

 _Her face came into contact with a rough, rocky surface; pieces of stones and dust imprinting into her cheeks. She quickly tried to dust herself off. As the grip around her throat loosened, she breathed quickly, heavily, trying to snatch back all the oxygen she had been starved of. Her body was so weak that she can barely stand._

 _"NO! No, please!"_

 _It was in that moment that Erin stopped focussing on her own wellbeing. That voice was not hers._

 _The dark, blank atmosphere was beginning to fade. Gradually, she could see that she wasn't in the middle of nowhere. As she became accustomed to her surroundings, she could see trees, grass; a forest clearing was not far away._

 _"PLEASE-" That was the last word she heard before a blood-curdling scream echoed around her._

 _Erin began to recognise the voice._

 _"GEORGE?!" She shrieked, trying to get closer to the clearing; her legs stumbling from the weakness._

 _All she had to do was follow his cries of pain. The louder he was, the more it killed her on the inside._

 _She reached the clearing, and laying on the muddy path below her were two men. One of whom was clearly dead; his corpse was a pale green and covered in blood...fresh blood. His eyes laid partially open and he was motionless. The sight twisted Erin's stomach as she watched him in horror._

 _The man laying next to him was still alive, but only just. He has a gash on the left side of his chest which he was desperately trying to cover up with the palm of his right hand, as pools of scarlet seeped through his fingers. His body quivered helplessly as he was rapidly losing blood, and consciousness._

 _Erin also knew him all to well._

 _His name was George Sands, and he was her brother._

 _"GEORGE!" She screamed again, crying uncontrollably. She rushed to his side, unsure of what to do. She rested one of her arms under his head and used her hand on the other arm to place over his, in order to stop the blood. It was a useless attempt._

 _"CAN ANYONE HELP ME?!" Erin called out urgently into the open air._

 _George coughed weakly and looked up at his sister. "...Erin..."_

 _"It'll be okay, George." She told him, her voice shaky. "We'll get you to a hospital and you're gonna be fine, alright? Just tell me what I need to do."_

 _He was struggling to keep his eyes open. "...You need to...run..."_

 _She looked down at him, shocked. "What?! George, I'm not leaving you here!"_

 _"I mean it, Erin..."_

 _"No! I'm not gonna lose you_ again _!"_

 _"Erin, he's right. You gotta get out of here," a new voice spoke. The new voice had an American accent, and it was one that she did not recognise._

 _Instantly, she flinched and turned around._

 _A man was stood above them...the same man whose body laid next to George. The American was stood over it, and he was identical to the body; same hair, eyes, clothes...everything except for the sallowness of skin and blood._

 _Erin screamed. She couldn't stop glancing between him and the corpse that resembled him. This could not be possible._

 _"But you...you're him...you're-"_

 _"Dead, yeah I know." He shrugged. "And you will be too, if you don't leave right this minute."_

 _Silence._

 _"Look, your brother's gonna be fine," he told her. "If he were gonna die, it would've happened by now. He's a survivor."_

 _"...I don't understand..." she whispered._

 _"I wish I could explain it to you, but there's really no time. All you need to know is that George isn't gonna die, but you might if you decide to stick around and help him. He's not your brother anymore, kid."_

 _None of what he was saying made any sense to her. And how dare he say that he isn't her brother anymore? What could he possibly mean by that?_

 _But all of the troubling thoughts she was having were immediately hushed and something unexplainable happened. A white, wooden door emerged in front of one of the trees. Erin's jaw dropped to the ground._

 _"Wha-"_

 _"Well, this is me." The dead man said casually, leaning back against this mysterious door. "Again, I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful, but you'll figure this all out in no time. See you on the other side."_

 _The man opened the door and a beacon of sky blue light shone straight out of it, making Erin squint. He walked through the strange door like it was nothing, as though it was as mundane as walking through the front door to your own home._

 _When it closed behind him, both the man and the door disappeared without a trace._

 _As Erin looked at the tree, extremely bewildered, she turned back to her brother._

 _George's eyes darkened._

 _"Erin...just gooOOOO..."_

 _She froze in terror as the single syllable in the word 'go' had been dramatically elongated, ending the word in a growl. George was now shaking uncontrollably in her arms, almost as if he was trying to break free, accompanied with more strangled growls and hisses._

 _Maybe the dead guy was right...maybe this wasn't her brother anymore._

 _As she looked into his bloodshot eyes, she saw a flicker of something strange. Something that sent a chill through her body._

 _It was as though her brother was possessed. He didn't seem human._

 _Reluctantly, she removed her arm from underneath his head and stood up, legs trembling in fear. She didn't want to leave him, but it looked as though it was too late to help him._

 _Instantly, George stood up, as though the fatal injury had melted away somehow._

 _He rushed straight towards his sister, and tackled her to the ground._

 _George tried to kill her._

Erin awoke in a cold sweat, breathing heavily, her hands clutching her duvet for dear life in order to try to keep them still. She began to cry; whether it was tears of sadness or relief that it was nothing more than a bad dream, she didn't know.

That was the seventh nightmare about her brother that she'd had in that month _alone_ , growing ever so frequently as the second anniversary of his death was quickly approaching.

Two years prior, her elder brother George Sands - whom she was very close with - died mysteriously on a mini break in Scotland with his fiance. Erin remembered hearing about the story on the local news and radio, but there was very little to report. No one knew exactly _how_ he died. She had done well to convince herself that it wasn't true; that he was still alive and it was just yet another reporter getting it wrong.

However, when a funeral service was held for him a week later, and his fiance was sat with them in the front row, sobbing uncontrollably, Erin knew she had to accept the harsh truth.

Their parents were still broken, of course. But, as the classic saying goes; time heals all wounds. They learned how to cope with the loss, as did his fiance; she eventually married someone else and started a family. Everyone learned how to move on.

Everyone except for Erin.

A whole catalogue of George-related nightmares were filed deep away in her brain, many of which were theories of how he could have passed away. Sometimes she'd dream that he had fallen down a flight of stairs, or drowned in a lake, or that he had died in a fire.

This was the first time that she had dreamt he had become a...something that she could not describe. And of all the nightmares that she had, this was by far the worst. To see her brother's eyes and personality distort into something that could not be further outside of reality was beyond disturbing.

In every dream, there was always an ounce of hope that it was real and she was reunited with George at last...and then her subconscious would create endless new ways for him to die and she would have to watch. It was torture, and it seemed that there was no way to escape it.

Although close with her mum and dad, she would hardly speak to them, at least not as much as she used to. She'd come home from work crying her eyes out, locking herself away and only leaving her bedroom to eat her dinner.

They found those moments particularly difficult; their daughter would sit there, quietly eating, not looking at them or saying a word. They'd try and lighten the mood, talk about weekend plans, holidays, something funny they watched on TV, but barely anything would elicit a response.

And, if it did, the conversation would normally take a dark turn...

 _"I think we should have a weekend away," her mum would say, happily. "We've all been working hard and I think it's about time we reward ourselves."_

 _"Good idea, love." Her dad would smile. "Erin, what do you think?"_

 _"Okay." She would say gloomily, before looking down at the table. "How about_ Scotland _?"_

 _"_ Erin! _"_

 _"What? You asked, and that's my answer. I want to go to Scotland."_

 _Her mum would put an arm around her and give her a kiss on her forehead. Erin would pretend as though she wasn't there._

 _"You need a break, darling..." she would tell her gently. "But, right now at least, Scotland isn't the best place..."_

 _"That's right," her dad would agree, sitting beside her. "How about somewhere nice and sunny? We could go to the beach! Would you like that?"_

 _Her mum would eye her dad, silently telling him that it wasn't the right time to sound too lively and upbeat._

 _"We just think..." she would say to her daughter cautiously "...that going to the place...where we...lost...your brother...it might not give you the closure that you need...necessarily..."_

 _Erin would stand up abruptly._

 _"Who said I was looking for closure?!" She would snap. "He's dead, I get it! Could you both just leave me alone?!"_

 _And off she would go, storming up to her bedroom and slamming the door. Erin would not talk to her parents again until the next morning, when she would apologise sheepishly for her behaviour and pretend the conversation never happened._

Not only did they want their son back, but they wanted their daughter back, too.

 **I promise the next chapter will be a lot better! This is more of an introduction.. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Annie was sat in the dimmed kitchen with Gilbert beside her. They struggled to find the words to describe the awful terrors that they had just witnessed; Annie's fiance was the one who had caused her untimely death.

Owen Norayan, who she often called 'the love of her life', forcefully pushed her down the stairs of their home, after accusing her of having an affair. Annie's head cracked against the solid, parquet floor on impact, killing her instantly. A pool of blood surrounded her curly dark hair.

Annie's ghost had just watch the entire scene unfold in front of her, completely jogging her memory of her death.

"That Owen's a prick, isn't he?" Gilbert sighed, taking a drag of his cigarette, the smoke filling the room.

Annie gave her friend an exasperated look, before looking down at her engagement ring in disgust. That was yet another downfall Annie found about being a spirit; she had to stay in the clothes that she died in, forever. She couldn't take the ring off no matter how hard she tried and it was practically glued to her finger; a permanent reminder of her betrayal.

Gilbert tried his best to make her feel better about the situation. "Why don't you just appear in his dreams and threaten him or something?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Didn't you know that ghosts can appear in humans dreams?" He told her. "You should try it, it's fun! All you have to do is focus on the person you have in mind, and as long as they're asleep, you're there! That's how I got to meet Morrissey."

She gave her friend a sad smile that faded quickly. Annie knew he was trying to cheer her up, but it wasn't the time. The only thing that she could focus on was the worthless feeling that Owen made her feel; it was too much to take.

"I have to get out of here," she said, tearfully.

Gilbert studied her expression. "When you say ' _out_ _of here_ '...what are you implying?"

" _Here_...this _dimension_..." Annie twisted the ring with anger. "I can't live like this, Gilbert, it hurts too much. It's not like I'll never see him again; he's George and Mitchell's fucking landlord! He wanders in and out of here almost everyday, and I'll never really be free."

Her deep brown eyes glanced at the floor, feeling hopeless. Being a ghost just seemed so unnatural; caught between Earth and the afterlife, yet not really _living_ in either of them. Now that Annie's life was over, her only purpose seemed to be just to float around, unseen by humans; including the loved ones that she had to leave behind. Her best friends were a vampire who was a recovering blood addict, a neurotic werewolf and another ghost who was a complete music snob, often frequenting places that played 1980's post punk and nothing else.

They were not the kind of friends she ever expected that she would have, or she would have ever chosen. But, unfortunately for Annie, they were the only ones (she knew) who understood _exactly_ what she was going through.

"I'm selfish, aren't I?" She looked at Gilbert with sadness.

He shrugged. "What d'ya mean?"

"I don't want to be here anymore," she told him. "I'd want nothing more than for that fucking door to show up and take me away from all of this...yet, I can't leave George and Mitchell. I've known them for so long now, they're like family to me-"

"Oi! What about _me_?"

"I was getting to you, Gilbert..."

"No, I _mean_ , you can't leave me alone with George and Mitchell. If I didn't have my cassette tapes, you'd be the only thing keeping me sane around here."

Annie giggled softly for a moment, then sighed. "Do you ever think about it?"

Gilbert's eyes widened in surprise. "What? _Leaving_?"

"Yes."

"'Course not," he answered quickly. "Why would I? What have _they_ got to offer me that this life can't? This life is great; I can walk around, keep being myself and with the added bonus that I'm almost invisible."

"Oh..."

Truthfully, Gilbert had been thinking about it, everyday. It had been a constant thought ever since the day he died in 1985.

When he first became a ghost, he remembered standing around, waiting for something to happen. Gilbert wasn't exactly sure what would occur, but after a while of absolutely nothing taking place, he had decided for himself:

The afterlife didn't want him.

Over twenty years later, and that thought only grew stronger, as people would pass away and cross over to the other side everyday, while Gilbert remained on Earth as nothing more than a shadow of himself, aged eighteen forever.

He went to great lengths to convince himself that if he didn't want the afterlife either; he was known for his defiant nature. However, he couldn't stop the nagging doubt that would chip away at him, bit by bit. Secretly, there wasn't much that he wanted to stick around for...he had his music collection and three friends - well, one friend and two acquaintances who greatly irritated him - but that was all. There was a more dominant part of him that wanted to progress onto the next level, such is the natural course of life.

Over the years, Gilbert learned that the only way to pass over was to complete a goal, an Unfinished Business; something you never got to accomplish or experience while you were alive. He had thought about trying to find his before, to discover what exactly was preventing him from passing through, but then he decided against it; why did Gilbert have to prove himself to them?

"How are you even meant to know what your Unfinished Business is?" He asked Annie. "D'ya just make a list of everything you've never done and narrow it down?"

"I guess so."

" _Fullproof._ " He said sarcastically.

"Look, just think of it as a bucket list, okay?"

" _Bucket_ list?!" He spluttered. "I'm fucking dead, Annie! I've already kicked the bucket!"

A small smile formed on her lips. "... _You_? Gilbert...I thought we were talking about me."

"... _We..._ we've kicked the bucket."

" _Shit_ ," he thought to himself, placing his hand over his forehead. As the penny began to drop for Annie, she grinned wider and wider.

"Oh my god," she smiled, her tears practically fading. "You _do_ want to pass over, don't you? I knew it!"

"I never said that-"

"You're a terrible liar, Gil," she laughed. "But this is good... _great_ even! Maybe we could cross over together?"

Gilbert hesitated for a moment. It was a nice thought, not having to face it alone. He had been dead for years, yet he still had no clue what exactly waited on the other side of the disappearing door. It could have been perfect and a million times more wonderful then anyone could ever experience in life. Alternatively, it could be a passageway into terrors more disturbing than the human mind could comprehend. The endless list of possibilities worried Gilbert, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad if someone was there with him.

However, he had to think realistically. "You know that's not gonna happen, Annie. Do you really think that whoever controls the afterlife would let in two ghosts together, just because they're frightened? Look, they don't care about me, or you, or anyone, for that matter. They're an operation that's been running for as long as the Earth's been turning, and they won't make allowances."

Annie put up two hands in front of her, defensively. "Alright, it was just a suggestion! Chill out."

Gilbert began to regret his snippy tone of voice. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry...I just know what they're like, that's all."

"But _do you_?" She raised an eyebrow. "Just because you've been dead for longer than I have, it doesn't make you an expert on these things. I don't know what you're so afraid of, Gil."

"You worry about your death, I'll worry about mine," he said bluntly, taking out another cigarette. "If your door shows up, good luck to you, but don't expect me to go with you. I'll stay here on Earth, where I belong."

"I give up." Annie sighed.

She vanished from the kitchen and reappeared in the living room, overcome with annoyance. Annie sat down and clutched a sofa cushion tightly to her chest, wanting to cry. Gilbert was the only other ghost she knew, and yet, they could not be more different from one another. She was sick and tired of not being able to relate to anyone.

Gilbert was still sat in the kitchen chair, cigarette between his lips, smoke filling the room. He was debating in his mind whether he should go into the living room and apologise to Annie, or tell her exactly what happened on the day of his death. Maybe then, it would be easier to understand.

 _"Not yet,"_ he thought to himself, sadly. _"I like Annie, and I think I can trust her, but it doesn't seem like the sort of thing I can just_ tell _someone."_

He stood up out of his chair, about to walk into the room where Annie sat, thinking that teleporting there would shock her somewhat. Gilbert didn't know exactly what he would say to her when he got there; he expected some awkward silences. However, he knew something had to be done.

But before Gilbert could take another step, something dropped at his feet, almost startling him. It made a loud noise as it fell flat on the ground.

It was a wallet.

"What the fuck..." he murmured, glancing above and around to identify where exactly it came from, to no avail. It was a complete mystery.

Removing the cigarette from his mouth, he knelt down and picked up the wallet, examining it. It was plain black leather on the outside, with no indication as to who it belonged to. Opening the wallet, Gilbert checked the pockets to see if there was any clue. Then, he came across a credit card, grinning as he found the name.

The wallet belonged to George.

Gilbert smirked as he noticed a few bank notes that had been drawn out. "Not bad for a porter's salary, I suppose."

Still trying to work out why George's wallet was placed in front of him, he kept looking through the pockets. Frustration began to take over as he wasn't any closer to finding the reason. Then, he came to a halt.

In the very last pocket, there was a piece of paper, folded up.

Curiousity overcame him, and Gilbert decided to unfold the paper. It was revealed to be a picture.

This particular picture was of a girl in her late teens. She had wavy shoulder length chestnut brown hair, a pale complexion and bright blue eyes hidden behind mascara. The girl had a smile that accentuated the dimples in her cheeks, causing her face to light up wonderfully. She had her arms folded behind her back modestly, sporting a grey The Smiths t-shirt and black ripped jeans.

He couldn't help feeling that maybe the photo was the reason he was mysteriously presented with the wallet.

"...Who _are_ you...?" Gilbert whispered to the girl's picture.

There were so many unanswered questions running through his mind. Who was the picture of? Why did George keep it in his wallet? How had he never seen her before? He had spent so much time studying the photograph that he didn't hear the front door closing.

Moments later, there were footsteps walking into the kitchen.

"Gilbert, _what_ exactly have you said to Annie? Only she's sat in there sulking and- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH MY WALLET?!"

Gilbert instantly looked up and saw George stood in the doorway, starting to look furious. With a straight face, he handed it back to his housemate, while still holding onto the picture.

George shook his head, angrily, struggling to find the words. "I don't know...I still don't know... _how_ did you even _get_ that? I thought I had it with me the whole time I was at work-"

"Who's that?" Gilbert interrupted him, showing him the picture of the girl.

George stared the picture in awe, mouth falling open. Slowly, he reached out his hand and took it out of Gilbert's hand. With his head down, he couldn't stop looking at the photo. He felt his eyes began to fill with tears; but he couldn't cry, especially not in front of Gilbert, who he already loathed.

"You've been looking through my wallet." George said, almost in the tone of a rhetorical question.

"I didn't _choose_ to, it was like someone chucked it at me or something." Gilbert shrugged. "Anyway, you haven't answered my question; who's the girl?"

"None of your business." George glared at him, clutching the picture tightly. "It doesn't matter anyway; you'll never meet her, none of us will... I'd appreciate it if you stopped going through my stuff. You're lucky that you're already dead, and I'm not transforming tonight. Think of this as a warning, Gilbert."

Gilbert watched as George swiftly exited the room, overcome with negative emotions. Sure, Gilbert found him pathetic and irritating, and his supernatural condition did give him a temper at times, but he did not expect a reaction like that. It seemed that whoever this girl was, George did not want anyone else to know about her.

However, it was too late. Gilbert had seen her, and now he wanted to know more. There had to be something about her in order to create this much intrigue.

That was when he had the idea:

He was going to meet her...in her _dream_.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

As George and Mitchell had gone to bed that night, Gilbert sat in the leather armchair in the living room with his hands resting on his knees. Although they were not human, vampires and werewolves were still able to sleep just like normal people. Ghosts, however, did not possess this ability. They were able to have vivid dreams, but this involved a ritual different to sleep.

Mitchell often told Annie that she should try to dream more, as she constantly talked about how she wanted to behave 'human'. Sometimes she did this, but other times, she didn't feel that it was worth it. How human could you be if you never slept?

And, of course, ghosts had the added bonus of being able to appear in the dreams of humans, something Annie had never thought of trying herself.

But Gilbert was no stranger to it. And, that night, he wanted to try it again; he wanted to meet the mysterious girl in the picture George kept in his wallet.

The room was dimly lit and peaceful, which seemed to be the perfect moment for concentration. A recently put-out cigarette laid in the ashtray on the coffee table, the last remnants of smoke rising softly in the air. Slowly, Gilbert began to close his eyes, visualising the girl standing before him.

Although he didn't know her name, it was still possible to reach through to her, as long as he knew what she looked like. He kept the image in his mind, remembering every detail; her dimples in her soft, pale cheeks, her doll-like sky coloured eyes, the Smiths t-shirt she was wearing, who, by some coincidence, were Gilbert's favourite band.

" _Focus, dammit._ " Gilbert thought to himself.

"Gilbert?"

Instantly, his eyes flew open; the silence being completely interrupted. The voice came from Annie, stood in the doorway, hand on one hip. She had an eyebrow raised, suspiciously. Gilbert resented the fact that she chose that night, of all nights, not to keep to herself.

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

" _Fine_." He huffed.

"Tell your face." she rolled her eyes, taking a place on the sofa beside him. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"It's too complicated to explain."

"I get it," she told him, even though she didn't. "Look, I just wanted to say sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to storm off like that; I know the afterlife is a bit of a touchy subject for you. It's your decision about when you want to go, and I shouldn't push you into that."

Gilbert began to relax. "It's not your fault, Annie. I'm sorry as well."

Annie smiled, putting her legs up on the sofa. "Do you wanna watch a bit of TV? There's not much on at this time of night, but there must be something. It gets a bit boring when everyone goes to bed."

"Would you mind if we don't? I want it to be quiet."

"You sound just like George."

"How the fuck dare you-"

Gilbert paused, his mouth dropping open; an idea beginning to form. Whoever the girl that he was trying to find was, George obviously knew her. As George had known Mitchell and Annie for longer than him, there may have been a chance that he had told them about her.

"Gil?" Annie asked. "Why did you stop mid-sentence?"

"This might seem like a strange question," he said quietly. "But...how much do you know about George's life?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, before he met us...when he was human..."

The question confused Annie, but nevertheless, she provided him with an answer. "Honestly, not that much, really; he's a bit secretive about that stuff. As far as I know, he was just an ordinary guy with a boring job."

"Nothing's changed, then."

" _Anyway,_ the only thing I really know about him was how he became a werewolf. He was on holiday and met this American tourist, and they went for a late night walk together. Next thing he knows, a wolf attacks his tourist friend, tourist friend dies - I assume he crossed over straight away - and George almost dies, but survives and the injuries are what changed him."

"So, nothing else? Did he ever talk about the people in his life?"

"Why are you interested?" She inquired. "You hate him!"

"Yeah, but..." Gilbert could not think of an excuse. "I was just asking."

Annie gave him a sideways glance, but turned back to look at the television. She flicked through the channels, eventually settling on one, but having the volume turned down low; so as not to wake Mitchell and George, and to keep Gilbert happy.

As the focus was no longer on him, Gilbert used the moment to close his eyes again, trying to search for the girl. The low hum of the TV wasn't too distracting, as he had other things on his mind.

" _Focus, Gilbert. Think of the girl in the picture. Block out the rest of the noise, just focus...focus..focus..."_

This carried on for a few minutes more, refusing to break his concentration. Before long, the voice in his head was the only thing he could hear, and the sound of the television seemed very distant.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a forest.

Erin walked through the trees with her brother, talking and laughing about the old days. Everything seemed bright and wonderful; neither of them had a care in the world. For once in a long time, she felt genuine happiness.

"Where does this forest lead to?"

"Honestly, I haven't got a clue," George chuckled. "Let's find out!"

"Cool," Erin grinned. "I'll get there first!"

"No chance, mate!"

The siblings laughed as they dashed between the towering oak trees, racing each other through the landscape. As the wind rushed through Erin's long hair, the adrenaline soared through her. All of her doubts and worries became nothing more than puffs of smoke, and the faster she ran, the more she abandoned them. Her legs picked up so much speed that she thought she would start flying.

Noticing that she was much further ahead than her brother, she appeared smug. "Looks like I'm faster, George! You've got a long way to go if you want to catch up with me!"

After she finished shouting, there was a silence. George didn't reply.

In fact, Erin began to realise that all of George's laughter had stopped. It had only been her for a while.

Anxiously, she turned around. Her brother was metres behind, stood very still with a blank expression on his face. Erin was confused, but she tried desperately to put more fun back into the situation.

"Are you alright?" She called. "Come on, it's not that bad! We'll be out of the woods soon!"

 _He was staring straight at her, saying nothing. George's face did not change, and Erin wasn't sure if he was even_ blinking.

"You're scaring me now." Erin told him uneasily, gingerly walking back. "What's the problem?"

Again, he did not move. But then, his lips pursed as though he was about to speak:

 _"_ Help _."_

Suddenly, George disappeared into the trees, as though he was being dragged violently.

Erin screamed, her heart beating a mile a minute. Instinctively, she raced back through the forest.

The faster she sprinted, the more petrified she became. Erin couldn't stop looking around her, hoping for a sign that he was still there, and that he was safe.

"GEORGE!" She cried, until her face turned blue, but it was hopeless; he was nowhere to be found.

Tears began to stream down her cheeks and her hair that once cascaded beautifully behind her was now falling frantically into her eyes. Her legs ached painfully and she was running out of breath, but she was also running out of her ability to care.

It seemed as though Erin was getting nowhere; no matter where she turned, there was no sign of George. The shortness of breath was starting to make her feel dizzy, clumsily knocking against the tree branches as her eyes could only focus on the strands of hair that caught in her lashes, and the view of her Converse covered feet on a platform of seemingly endless mud and fallen leaves.

It was then that she bumped into something.

However, this wasn't another tree. When Erin came into contact with it, she felt the texture of leather against her skin. Also, whatever it was, it was freezing.

So unnaturally cold, in fact, that the impact sent her tumbling to the rough, dirty ground.

"That was my bad. Are you alright?"

Erin flinched as there was a voice talking to her, yet the voice did not belong to George. It belonged to a male with a Northern English accent, possibly from Manchester. Quickly, she flicked the hair out of her face and looked up, wiping her eyes.

Before her stood a fairly tall man with pale skin and a light brown quiff. The clothes he wore looked very retro; a long black leather trenchcoat with a dark blue cardigan and jeans. He also appeared to have a cigarette tucked behind one of his ears.

The man smiled for a second when he saw Erin's face. She stared back at him, bewildered. Erin had definitely never seen him before.

She would have remembered.

Unsure of the severity of her state, he offered Erin a hand to help her up from the ground. Erin accepted, but when she touched his hand, she quickly pulled it back. It was as if she had touched something that was scolding hot, except, this was the exact opposite.

"Your hands are like ice," she shivered.

"Sorry," he said quietly, looking much like a deer caught in the headlights. "I was just trying to help."

"It's fine," she told him, slowly standing up. "Sorry for running into you like that."

"Don't be." He smirked.

As Erin stood up, her eyes met his. The man had light blue eyes also, yet they were not similar to hers. His eyes were the colour of a frozen waterfall; so cold, yet captivating. The more she gazed into them, the more they confused her. Erin could have sworn she saw something twinkling behind them, like some sort of light. It was something unexplainable and hypnotic.

"Was that you I heard screaming just then?"

"Oh," she replied, snapping back into reality. "Yeah, it was. I was looking for my brother."

 _The man's smile fell. "_ Brother _?"_

"Brother, yes." Erin told him, beginning to panic again. "His name's George. One minute he was here, and then he vanished, and now I can't find him-"

 _"_ YOU _are_ George's _sister_...?"

"Why are you so surprised by that?" She asked impatiently. "...Wait, do you know him?"

"Well...yeah." He hesitated. "I could help you look for him, if you'd like."

Erin took a deep breath and nodded, beginning to calm down. "That would be great, thank you."

She walked with the mysterious man through the woods, looking behind every so often. But when she wasn't trying to keep an eye out for George, she would look up at the man's face; the way his eyes glistened curiously, especially when they caught the light. Sometimes he would glance back at her, grinning.

Even though she still felt anxious, she couldn't help but smile back.

"You never told me your name," he said to her.

"I'm Erin." She smiled.

"Gilbert."

Erin looked at him, surprised. It was a strange name, and not one that she commonly heard. But it was unique, and she liked it.

 _She already quite liked_ him _, as weird as he seemed._

Gilbert's eyes flickered around, suddenly alert. This worried Erin, as it quickly began to dawn on her that the two of them were not safe there. Whatever happened to George could also happen to them.

"Erin, I have to tell you something."

"Shouldn't we get out of here, first?"

He sensed the sudden panic and put a hand on her arm to try and calm her down, but swiftly pulled away as he sent a chill running through Erin's body. He took a step back, awkwardly.

"No, no, it's fine." He told her. "We're alright here. But I need to tell you that your brother's alright, too."

 _She was confused; they had spent that whole time looking for him. And now, Gilbert knew he was fine? How could he_ possibly _know?_

"...What?"

 _He sighed deeply. "He's not_ here... _but he's perfectly safe, I promise you."_

A slight twinge of anger sparked up in Erin's brain. "...So, basically, you sent me on a wild goose chase. You wanted to waste my time, while I was in the middle of...wherever this place is, scared and alone. Did you think that was funny?"

Gilbert was horrified. "No! It wasn't like that at all, I swear! You see, I just wanted to meet you, and..."

Erin could no longer focus on Gilbert's voice, as so many thoughts were screaming inside of her head. It became so overwhelming that she had both hands on her temples in an urgent attempt to try to silence them. It seemed so distressing that Gilbert stopped talking and just watched her.

"You alright?"

Suddenly, all the voices in her head were cut off. Slowly, she took her hands away from her face, and looked up at Gilbert.

"He's dead."

He gave her a strange look. "...No...no, he looked pretty alive last time I saw him."

 _She shook her head. "No, Gilbert._ He's dead."

"But-"

 _In frustration, she kicked the nearest tree. "Every single time I find myself in a situation like this, I'm always gullible enough to believe it's real! There's always a small glimmer of hope that my brother's alive, and then it gets taken away from me. But now I realise; this is a_ dream. _I'm dreaming right now, and I'll wake up soon and everything will be back to normal...shit, but normal!"_

She slumped onto the ground, burying her head in her hands, her long brown hair covering her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to wake up."

"Erin-"

 _"You're not real either!" Erin yelled. "Do you really think I'd listen to you_ now _?"_

"Erin, you've got to listen to me."

Without thinking, Gilbert knelt beside her, grabbing her hands by the wrists. The briskness of his hands forced her to look at him, as the iciness sparked her entire body.

"Are you cold-blooded or something?"

He let go of her, cursing under his breath. "You're right. You are dreaming right now."

"Exactly-"

 _"_ But _you need to listen to me." He took a deep breath. "George is alive, I promise you that. You see, the thing is...I know what happened...that night, when he..."_

"Died?"

 _Gilbert shook his head. "Got_ attacked. _But he survived."_

"That can't be true," Erin told him, eyes beginning to water. "His fiance...she came home on her own, absolutely heartbroken...we had a memorial service for him...his death was all over the news..."

"Well, did ya ever see the body?"

Erin paused, her glassy eyes widening. "No...but I...we all just thought his body was missing..."

"He's in Bristol." Gilbert said without a second thought.

 _"..._ Bristol _?"_

"Yeah," he told her, cracking a small smile. "He's perfectly fine...a bit of a pain in the arse, mind. But he's happy."

Erin, however, wasn't in the mood to cheer up. "Why would he just ditch his fiance and escape to Bristol? Julia was lovely. Did he really hate us so much as to fake his own death, just to get away from us?"

"God, no!" Gilbert quickly tried to reassure her. He almost putting a hand on her shoulder, before quickly retracting it. "I promise you, it's nothing like that."

"Really?"

"Erin, I've never lied to anyone in my life, and I'm not about to start with you."

"Okay."

 _Her eyes then glowered and bored directly into Gilbert. "Then,_ why?" _She scowled._

Erin's sudden change in mood seemed to shock Gilbert somewhat; he began to lose the confident attitude he had had before. "I...it's a bit of a complicated one, that-"

"I deserve to know."

"Of course you do," he told her. "But I can't say. You just wouldn't believe me."

She looked at him, desperately."Try me, Gilbert. You've told me so much already. A small part of me always wondered if he was still out there, and everyone thought I was insane. You have no idea how much I need you to just confirm everything right now. Please, just tell me how he survived and why he left."

He hesitated, feeling conflicted between the girl and the information he was keeping to himself. Gilbert could see that all it took to bring happiness and comfort back to Erin's life was to just tell her the truth...but, then again, he feared it might do the exact opposite.

But then he disappeared.

Erin's jaw dropped as Gilbert just vanished into thin air, without a goodbye, or an explanation. Would he ever come back?

"Gilbert!" Erin yelled. "Please, just come back!"

Erin woke up, once again in the dark, in a cold sweat, the familiar sting of tears filling her lifeless eyes. The only difference was that, this time, she had been completely lucid through the experience.

Her emotions were a combination of hope and annoyance. The latter, because she couldn't uncover more of the truth. She knew she was in arm's reach of it, but it barely brushed against her fingertips. The former, because for the first time in two years, someone shared her belief that her brother was safe, and did not think she was crazy.

Gilbert allegedly knew George. He knew his whereabouts, whether or not he was safe, and possibly other things that Erin had no idea of.

There was just one thing getting in the way; Gilbert wasn't real. He was merely a character in her dream, reflecting her sense of perseverence.

But in that moment, for reasons that Erin couldn't possibly begin to articulate, she got out of bed. Switching on her bedside lamp, she began frantically opening the drawers of her bedside table, rummaging for a notebook and pen.

Eventually, she found them, and got back into bed. Opening the first page, she wrote down all of the important details of the dream that she could remember: _Gilbert, Bristol, George was attacked, but not killed._

She wiped her eyes, and started to smile.

"This isn't over." She whispered.


End file.
